


The Mark of a Knight

by RosexKnight



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Charistmas In July, rcij
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosexKnight/pseuds/RosexKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle Christmas in July present for JudyMulder! Prompt: Fencing, "The Mark of Zorro"</p><p>Sir Rumpelstiltskin has been branded a traitor in the eyes of the Frontlands and has been in hiding with his son for ten years. However, when the very force that threatened to pull them apart all those years ago comes to his new home, the now-spinner must take up his sword once more and save his son from a fate worse than death. However, his son does not yet fully know the ways of a knight, and there is a certain princess there that makes keeping his identity a secret quite a challenge…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [judymulder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/judymulder/gifts).



“But the brave knight wasn’t afraid of the evil king…”

“He wasn’t?”

“No. He leapt down from the top of the steps and scooped up the innocent man right by the scruff of his neck. Once he was safe he turned to the evil king and turned his sword on him. With a flick of his wrist he made it clear to the evil king that the people would not take his tyranny any longer. Then, he climbed onto his noble steed and rode away.”

The boy’s eyes were wide with wonder as his father pulled the wool blanket to his chin. “The brave knight is amazing.”

His father only chuckled. “He was only doing what was right. All knights do. Or used to…”

“I want to be a knight when I'm old enough.”

“You can one day. You'll get there. The world can use more Knights. There are so few of us now.”

“Is that why you don't have many adventures anymore papa?”

He chuckled. “That's exactly right. I hear plenty of tales from other Knights, though. I'll tell you more But for now, sleep.”

The boy groaned, but let his father kiss his brow nonetheless. “Goodnight, Papa.”

“Goodnight, son. Pleasant dreams.”

It wasn't until he'd blown out the lamp beside his son’s bed and started into the main room that his body began to ache. He rubbed his shoulders, trying to smooth away the bruises that were no doubt there from his armor. His leg hurt the worst, and he practically groaned with relief when he sat on a settee by the hearth, stretching it out.

“I'm getting too old for this…” He grumbled to himself.

The fire crackled before him, and he was grateful for the peace it offered. His son didn't suspect that the stories he told were his own, and for that he was grateful. He relaxed into his chair, letting his mind wander through the night.

It wasn't always like this. Knights once had honor befitting of the royalty they swore allegiance to. There were no evil kings or ogres. Only pretty princesses with beautiful blue eyes smiling at him as he helped her onto her horse. Heaving a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Now was not the time to be dwelling on past, no matter how lovely the memories of his favorite princess was. She probably hates him for chipping her teacup anyway.

Perhaps, in another life, he wouldn't be sitting here alone with a sore leg, stewing in the feats of the day with an empty seat at his side. If he were a better man, perhaps he'd finally have a proper family. Then again, he had his son, and that was all he needed. Still, he couldn't help the thought that maybe it was time for him to retire and settle down after all. He snorted at the thought.

Yeah. Retire. And then he'd hunt down that pretty princess and settle down with her. And then he'd ride a flying boar.

A knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts. He frowned, his hand finding the sword he kept at his side at all times. The knock came a second time, and it was only then that he opened it.

“Sir Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Aye…”

The man at his door took a scroll from under his cloak. Behind him, Rumpelstiltskin could make out the dark figures of a horse and three others in the darkness. He shifted his weight to his better leg, his eyes squaring on the man before him unrolling the scroll. The crest of the Royal Family of the Frontlands glinted in the dim light of the fire and moon, and Rumpelstiltskin’s stomach dropped.

“I am Hordor, Captain of the Guards of the Frontlands.” The man said before turning to the scroll. “The Ogres War is upon us. It has been decreed by Prince James that every available boy at the age of 12 must report to the castle to be trained to be part of the Royal Army for the upcoming battle.”

Rumpelstiltskin stood dumbfounded, the information not quite registering to him. Or perhaps it was that he couldn't believe it.

“We’re here for Baelfire.” Hordor finally said, tucking the scroll back into his cloak.

“No.” Rumpelstiltskin said immediately. “Bae is my apprentice. He's to be a knight of the realms.”

“Wake up old man. The age of Knights is over. If they were so important the kingdom wouldn't have Ogres biting at its ankles!”

Rumpelstiltskin remained silent.

“If you refuse, you'll be branded a traitor. And hanged, Knight of the Realm or not.”

The weight of the situation fell on him, and fear coiled in his gut. They wanted Baelfire. His son. For the front line. He knew all too well what that meant.

“Sir Rumpelstiltskin.”

“No.” The knight choked out finally, gripping his sword. “No you can't have my son.”

“So be it.”

The door slammed shut before Hordor could draw his sword. Rumpelstiltskin grabbed a nearby chair, barring the door.

Baelfire was already stirring from the loud noise. “Papa?”

“Here.” Rumpelstiltskin jutted out a small pack to his son. “Grab everything you can.”

“Papa what's going on?”

There was a loud slam on the door, the sound of wood splintering echoing through the house.

“We have to go, son. Everything essential. Now!”

The boy only nodded and began following his father’s instructions, packing away his warm winter coat and a few other things from his room before moving to the kitchen. Rumpelstiltskin followed suit, grabbing his sword and shield once the essentials were packed away.

With another loud slam the door gave way, and Rumpelstiltskin whirled around with his sword only to meet Hordor’s with a clang.

“Baelfire, get behind me son.”

The boy followed his father’s orders, clutching himself to his side. Hordor only chuckled, taking a step back. Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes darted through the house. They were effectively trapped from any means of escape save for the back door, and once he made a move for it Hordor would have him.

“It's over, Rumpelstiltskin.” Hordor said. “Give me the boy.”

“Never!”

With another sharp noise their blades made contact. With a few swings Rumpelstiltskin forced the other back, but he could see two more entering. Hordor toon advantage of his distraction, parrying fiercely with a few short swings. Rumpelstiltskin found himself by the hearth, back where he started. There was little other choice. They would have to run.

With one fluid motion, Rumpelstiltskin caught the logs in the hearth with his sword, sending them scattering across the floor between them. Hordor stumbled back with a cry, the blazing logs hitting his feet and the embers scattering towards his arms. The fire crackled and caught, the nearby rug soon burning with the heat and embers, then the wooden table, then the chairs, and soon the entire house was blazing. Despite the growing fire between them, Hordor came at Rumpelstiltskin mercilessly. Rumpelstiltskin bolted upright to block Hordor’s blow at his arm, but the quick movement proved folly, and he stumbled back with a new pain in his leg. Hordor took advantage once again, backing Rumpelstiltskin into a corner until the smoke became too thick for either of them. Coughing and sputtering, Hordor and his men were forced back into the thick smoke.

“Run, Bae!” Rumpelstiltskin called, darting to his son, “Out the back!”

The boy needn’t had been told twice. In a moment he’d turned and pushed through the flames and smoke out the door. He didn’t stop running until he was atop the hill behind the house, his father not far behind him.

Rumpelstiltskin’s bones felt heavy, and his sword thumped to the ground as he coughed, lungs burning, desperate for clean air.

“Are you alright, son?” He asked, hands fluttering around his boy, searching for any signs of harm. He smiled when his son nodded. “Good. Good thing.”

“You’ll never be rid of me!” Came an angry cry from below, over even the roar of the fire. “I will find you, traitor! You’ll never be rid of me!”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed, bending to pick up his sword again. “Come, Bae.” He finally rasped, clinging to his son’s shoulder. “We have to go.”

“I don’t understand, Papa.” Baelfire said as he followed his father away from the house they once knew, his pack of necessities and most prized possessions on his shoulder. “Why did he call you a traitor? Why did we run instead of fighting like a knight should? Like the brave knight in your stories?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell his son the truth. That the evil king wanted him for a soldier. That the brave knight stood no chance with an aching leg against three men. But his son was just a boy, naive to the darkness of the world. And, through his own sweaty brow and burning muscles and racing pulse another truth showed through.

“Because, son...I’m not a brave knight.” He sighed, the words like sandpaper on his tongue. He kept his eyes forward, unable to meet the disappointment in his son’s eyes. “And I’m getting too old for this…”

His son only nodded, turning back for a moment to fixate at the fire at the bottom of the hill. And if his father had a limp as they turned away from their old life, he didn’t notice.


	2. Honor

~ Ten Years Later ~

Spinning was not a bad profession. It brought back some rather fond memories for Rumpelstiltskin. His old spinster aunts had always said he should have made it his trade. He wondered, sometimes, if they could see him now, what they would think. It didn’t make for a bad life. He and his son had what they needed, and had never been hungry. Though, he did sometimes long for the past luxury of having time on his hand to spend with his son relaxing and enjoying the day. But, he had his son and spinning wheel. That was all a spinner needed. And the wheel was better than a sword ever was. Felt better under his fingertips. The smooth grain of the wood and the creak of the wheel was a comfort as it turned and the wool turned to thread. It kept him focused. Helped him forget…

The air shifted, the hairs on the back of his neck immediately standing on end. He caught hold of the walking stick at his side and swung it around behind him. With a sharp thwack it came into contact with another bit of wood.

“Did you bring the sheep in?”

“How’d you sense that?”

The spinner rolled his eyes, turning to his son. Baelfire was a head taller than him, his shepherd’s crook serving as the weapon he’d used to swing at his father with.

“Your footsteps weren’t light enough.” Rumpelstiltskin said simply. “And your breathing was not in synch with mine.”

“But you weren’t even looking.”

Rumpelstiltskin grinned, leaving his spinning in favor of standing. Leaning heavily on his sturdy walking stick, he looked over his son. Baelfire had grown into a fine man of 28 and, with his father’s training, a fine spinner and knight. However, he couldn’t help but feel that his son was not ready for that title. He was still too hasty. Too headstrong.

Too much like he had been.

With a flick of his wrist, Rumpelstiltskin’s walking stick hit Baelfire’s crook. If it were anyone else, the weapon would have been dropped. But his son was clever. He let the bottom of the crook swing out from under him so he could bring the top down in an attack from above. Rumpelstiltskin was quicker, though, and parried the attack easily, causing the top-heavy weapon to fall back and tumble awkwardly from Baelfire’s upper grip. When the boy turned back to his father the bottom of the walking stick was at his neck.

“Don’t underestimate your opponent.” Rumpelstiltskin said with a frown. “The slightest hesitation can be your downfall.”

“I wasn’t being serious.” Baelfire defended. “I was going easy on you since your leg was hurting.”

“Your enemies won’t know. Or care. Every battle could be the last. That’s the price for being a knight. Never forget that.”

“Yes Papa.”

“And there is no honor in attacking an opponent with their backs turned. You know that.”

This time it was Baelfire that frowned. “Honor? What honor are you talking about?”

“The honor of a knight!” Rumpelstiltskin snapped, leaning again on his walking stick. “A knight’s honor is his mark. It’s the very foundation that--”

“I see no honor. There’s none anywhere. The Ogres War might be dying down, but war is war. A knight is supposed to fight that war no matter the cost! Slay monsters, rescue princesses, beco--”

“A knight fights for the people! If you haven’t learned that then all your training has been a waste of time.”

There was a palpable tension in the air as the two glared each other down. The only sound to break it were the stomping of many hooves and the wheels of a carriage as a caravan passed, on its way to the palace.

“If you’re running then you can’t fight for the people at all.”

The words cut Rumpelstiltskin to the core. Memories of the night all those years ago flooded him. He flinched at the mere thought of his son clinging to him as their house went up on smoke.

“I had my reasons for running.” He defended lamely, as if that justified or explained anything.

Not for the first time, Baelfire fumed at his father’s half-explanation. With a loud sigh, he dropped his crook, the wood clattering to the floor.

“Where are you going?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, his voice unreadable.

The boy paused for a moment at the door. Another caravan rode by their home, headed for the palace. There was apparently something happening there. Something that would no doubt require the attention of the guards.

“Bae?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s voice was quieter now. Steady, but holding some doubts that bubbled to the surface. Baelfire frowned. It was those doubts and the fear in his father that he hated. His father was a knight. Had been a knight. And wasn’t even brave enough to defend their home when he was called a traitor. The word constantly echoed in Baelfire’s mind, and it was a word he refused to believe. Still, it was obvious his father didn’t understand. Wouldn’t understand. He was too set in his old ways, and the old ways simply weren’t an option anymore. Baelfire wanted to be a knight. Like the ones in the stories he’d grown up with. He was more than ready, and yet...

It was with a heavy heart that he made his decision. And for it, he'd need a horse. The palace had so many. It’d barely notice one was missing.

“I need some air.” Baelfire said. “I’ll see you later, Papa.”

With that, Baelfire stepped outside, and if his father called for him to try and be back before it got too dark, he pretended not to hear.


	3. Chapels

Things definitely did not go as planned. Snow White’s castle was surprisingly easy to sneak into. The only lookout had been a dwarf, sound asleep in his chair. He’d made it to the stables easily enough. He hadn’t given much thought to the kind of horse he’d be aiming for, only even having a rudimentary knowledge of riding. But he could saddle the horse and ride it out of the stables, and that was what mattered.

He’d chosen a gorgeous stallion who was black as night. Perhaps it would do him well in the upcoming escape to be a bit camouflaged. However, things had gone south when he’d come face to face with a blonde woman. With only a stray rapier to defend himself, Baelfire was left scattering around the stable, parrying her attacks like a greenhorn as he dodged over water troughs and ducked into stables.

He was almost out of the stables altogether when he stumbled, and soon enough, he found himself at the tip of her sword, panting heavily as the blonde woman smirked down at him.

“You’re not very bright are you?” She asked, and Baelfire gulped as he found her voice to be smooth and almost musical. 

“I have my moments.” Baelfire defended.

The woman snorted. “Yeah. I’d like to see that.”

~

Something had happened. Rumpelstiltskin could feel it. It wasn’t uncommon for Baelfire to need time to himself after the fights that seemed to be becoming more and more common. But it was dark out, a few hours past sunset. He should have been back by now.

Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes were drawn to the chest to his right. Tucked away in a corner. Solemn. Almost forgotten. He sighed. His gut had never failed him before, but he hated opening the chest, his old sword sitting there, almost taunting him. He’d never be able to fight with the skills he once had thanks to his leg. But something told him Baelfire needed him, and that was enough to give him the strength to pick the sword up from the chest and tie it to his waist.

It only took asking a neighbor to find out that Baelfire had gone towards the palace, and Rumpelstiltskin was soon cursing under his breath. His son was indeed just like he’s once been. Foolish and impulsive and oh so brave.

Rumpelstiltskin was so focused on gritting his teeth to fight through his ankle screeching at him that he didn’t notice the horse that was too close as he rounded the castle wall to the stables until it was too late.

“Careful.” He found himself calling as he heard a small yelp come from the horse’s rider. It was nothing at all to grab the horse’s reins and attempt to soothe it.

“Easy, Filipe.” The voice said, and Rumpelstiltskin froze.

He knew that voice. That voice that was clear and caring like bells ringing with the wind. He’d never been so grateful for his dark and tattered cloak in his life.

“Are you hurt?” He asked out of sheer habit, because it mattered.

“No, I’m fine.” She said, smiling down at him.

Even in the dim lights of the castle torches her smile was unmistakable. Rumpelstiltskin didn’t know whether to curse the fate that had brought her back to him now of all times or thank it. His favorite princess tilted her head at him, searching him for a moment with her impossibly blue eyes before blinking, as if confused.

“Careful, m’lady.” He said before she had time to think to hard. To realize it was him in the darkness of his cloak’s hood. “There are strange men about.”

She only grinned at him. “Well then you’ll have to point them out to me.”

“Aye. I will.”

For a moment, she hesitated, worrying on her lower lip. “Are one of them the man just there, in the stables that I believe my friend has at swordpoint by now?”

Inwardly, Rumpelstiltskin groaned. “That depends on your definition of strange, m’lady.’

“I have a very versatile definition.”

With a flourish, her own riding cloak was tossed to the side, and Rumpelstiltskin found himself staring her down atop her horse, his nose at the tip of her sword. His lips quirked into a smile.

“I’d say you do, m’lady.” He agreed, his hand reaching to grasp the hilt of his sword. “Still, seems a shame to ruddy your cloak with an activity like this.”

“And how else would you have me ruddy it on a night facing a horse bandit?” Oh, there were quite a few ways Rumpelstiltskin could think of, not one of them at all appropriate at the moment. However, he didn’t have the chance to retort before she’d said, far too quickly, “Don’t answer that.”

He chuckled. “I assure you m’lady I only want to get my...partner and drag him home.”

She smiled, seeming to empathize with him for a moment. However, it was soon obvious that was to lull him into a false sense of security as she lunged at him, using her momentum from slipping off her horse to her advantage. Rumpelstiltskin had just enough time to draw his sword, parrying her attack before it was even fully out of the sheath. She took a step back, blinking at his technique. Her lips quirked into something of a smile before she lunged at him again, and Rumpelstiltskin found himself deflecting swing after swing, circling as she moved to attack him at different angles.

He remembered her having an interest in swordplay, but he’d never expected she’d blossom like this, especially not under her father’s roof. Her footwork was flawless, and he cursed the limited vision that his hood forced him to have. Still, even with the concentration of battle gracing her features she was beautiful. He didn’t even notice the pain in his ankle anymore.

“You’re quite skilled, princess.” He complimented, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

She smiled as well. “Thank you. You’re quite good for a bandit as well.”

Rumpelstiltskin smirked, their actions picking up then slowing, creating their own tempo. It became less of a battle and more of a dance as they circled and she forced him back and around the corner, just outside the stables. She took a perch on a few crates, parrying him from her advantage on the high grounds before he spun, his sword swinging at her feet and forcing her to leap down. She laughed, a real genuine laugh that he answered in turn, the mood contagious.

“You’re not a bandit.” She said as she lunged at him again, pushing him backwards as she held the contact in their swords. “Who are you?”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “I thought we established that. I’m a strange man about tonight.”

She smirked, moving back to make another pass at him, however she halted mid, air as a yelp echoed from behind them. The two turned to look into the stables. Baelfire was over a blonde woman, having apparently pulled a mat from under her feet. Crude, but effective, he’d hand it to his son.

“Ah. Yes I’ll just be grabbing him and taking my leave.” Rumpelstiltskin said, turning back to her.

With the limited visibility he didn’t realize the princess had caught his feet until he was tripping up, stumbling and falling flat on his back with a thump.

“You--!”

Rumpelstiltskin found himself staring up at her shocked expression, his hood having apparently fallen away with the fall. He swallowed as her expression waned from fury to confusion and back again. He didn’t have time to catch his breath and answer the questions she could see in her eyes before Baelfire was at him, helping him up with his rapier pointed to her.

“Well this certainly counts as my definition of strange…” She said as Baelfire glared her down, glancing back to the blonde as she got up.

“Are you alright, Belle?” She asked, her sword tight in hand, pointed at Baelfire.

“I’m fine, Emma. Just a bit...shaken.”

The sounds of yelling suddenly cut through the night air, and a group of footprints stampeded closer.

“That’d be the guards.” Emma said. “We’ve missed our window.”

“The chapel.” Belle said, leaning forward to help Baelfire heave Rumpelstiltskin to his feet. “Come, quickly!”

“Them too?”

“I’ll explain later.” Belle said.

Rumpelstiltskin and Baelfire exchanged a look, trying to process what exactly had happened and where to go from there. The pain in his ankle was coming back, radiating from the stress it had been through.

“Well? Aren’t you coming?” Belle practically demanded, leaving Rumpelstiltskin and Baelfire no choice but to go after them.

They were unable to tell if the footsteps were getting closer or fading away as they made their way to the chapel. The air inside was cool despite the many candles lining the rows of pews.

“The confession booth.” Emma said immediately, pointing to the nearby structure. “He won’t be able to stand for long.”

Belle nodded, more than happy to let her friend take the lead as he shuffled Rumpelstiltskin near the confession booth, Emma and Baelfire going to seek refuge deeper into the church.

“Here.” Belle said, sitting him down in the side normally designated for the priest.

“Won’t the priest here wonder why we’re hiding?” Rumpelstiltskin asked as she disappeared to the other side.

“He’s a friend.” She said. “He’ll understand.”

He nodded, and a tense silence passed between them. The air grew stuffy inside the booth, and Rumpelstiltskin allowed himself to relax for a moment, taking solace in the small time of peace.

“You were running.” He observed. “I seem to have complicated your night. I apologize.”

“It’s no matter.” Belle said. “How did you know?”

“I’ve done my fair share of running. I know it when I see it.”

“But you’re a knight.” Belle said, tilting her head to look at him through the grated metal. “Why would you run?”

“I’m no longer a knight.” He confessed. It seemed appropriate given where they were. And if they were caught, there was no point in keeping it to himself. “I’ve been branded a traitor.”

Belle gasped, and he was only able to venture a glance at her. She shook her head, and he looked away.

“I wouldn’t let them have my son to make him into a soldier. I ran. And so I’m a traitor.”

“That’s no reason to brand you a traitor!” Belle snapped, and Rumpelstiltskin found himself staring at her in awe before the doors of the church opened and the footsteps returned.

The two stilled, holding their breaths for a few moments before Belle finally spoke.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned…”

Rumpelstiltskin blinked at her, and she gave him a smile that was quite hard to see through the intricate grating.

“What is it, my child?” He asked, lowering the register of his voice, trying to keep up the charade.

“I had feelings for a man.”

Rumpelstiltskin pressed his eyes closed, swallowing hard. “A man?”

“Yes, father, I thought he was a bandit at first, but I found I knew him. I thought him charming. I--”

Her words were cut short by voices outside.

“Forgive the intrusion, Father, we are only looking for two bandits seen sneaking around the grounds.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s blood ran cold. That voice belonged to Hordor. Somehow, by cruel coincidence or years of hunting, Hordor had found them.

“There have been no men I’ve seen.” The priest said. “Perhaps they knew better than to come onto these sacred grounds.”

“Run.” Belle whispered to Rumpelstiltskin. “I’ll stall them as long as I can.”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, opening the door slightly. He was thanking his lucky stars that his side of the confessional opened close to another door, and he slipped out and into the shadows before anyone could notice him.

“Be that as it may, we’re still searching the grounds.” Hordor said, his eyes falling first onto the confessional.

He was stopped short, however, when Belle appeared, almost hitting him with the door.

“Hordor? What’s going on?” She asked innocently, her eyes falling to the other soldiers tearing the church apart.

“Nothing for you to worry about, dear hart.” Hordor said with a smile, reaching out to stroke her shoulder. “What were you doing here?”

“I came with Emma to confess.” She said.

Hordor’s eyes widened as he looked to the priest. The old man only shrugged, though a mischievous glint fell over his eye as Hordor dashed to the confession booth to find the other side empty.

And if two figures slipped back into safety through the night, and a certain black stallion was missing from the stables, no one ever noticed.


	4. Threats

“We can’t just run!”

“What would you have me do, Bae?!”

“Stay! Stand and fight! I’ll not abandon another home for your cowardice!”

“We stand no chance against these men! The safest thing to do would be to run and find another place to lie low!”

“Yes because that worked so well all these years!”

The horse at the window whinnied, and the sound of another horse approaching could be heard. Rumpelstiltskin’s stomach roiled.

“Out the back, Bae.”

“Wait.”

The hooves of the horses stopped, and the small sounds of feet hitting the ground echoed. It was with a shaky hand that Rumpelstiltskin gripped his sword. Slowly, a knock came on the door, and Baelfire opened it.

“Belle.”

The words came out with such relief that Rumpelstiltskin’s whole body deflated.

“Sorry.” She said. “Emma is outside. I can’t stay long. They’re looking for you.”

“I know.” Rumpelstiltskin said with a nod, his hand coming up to stroke her shoulder almost instinctively as she stepped forward to him. “We’re running.”

“You don’t have to!” She insisted. “You’re not in the Frontlands anymore. He has no power over you.”

“I was a knight, Belle. A knight of the realms. It doesn’t matter where I go He can still take me in…”

Baelfire cleared his throat, “I’ll just...keep watch with Emma.”

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled as his son stepped outside. He shook hi head at the picture he made through the window, looking stiff as he no doubt tried to talk normally to Emma. Princess Emma. Seems the apple didn’t fall far from the tree when it came to their taste in women.

“Watch him. He’s taken a shine to her.” Rumpelstiltskin said, and Belle giggled as she followed his gaze.

The noise tapered off, and her bottom lip slipped between her teeth once again. “There’s a ball to be held tonight.”

“Is that what’s going on?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“Yes. I pulled some strings. It’s to be a masquerade…”

“How did you pull strings?”

Belle gave him a sheepish smile. “The ball is for my engagement to Prince James. He was unable to come due to some crisis with a giant and a beanstalk. It’s all for business, you see. But Snow White is my friend so she agreed to help me and let me have some marriment before…”

Rumpelstiltskin remained silent, his expression steely. He tried to ignore the pang in his heart. It wasn’t as if he had any right to feel that way. Never had. He hadn’t the courage to ask her father to let him court her when he was in her kingdom, and now he was only a spinner.

“I still have that cup.” She said, her voice hopeful. “It’s my favorite.”

Rumpelstiltskin lifted a brow at her. He knew the cup, of course. He’d been a fool when he was taking tea with her, all alone save for her escort, Gaston. His hands had shaken so much as he tried to make any sort of pleasant conversation with the beauty that he’d dropped the cup, chipping it.

“It’s chipped.”

Belle smiled, lifting a hand to his shoulder. “Sometimes the best teacup is chipped.”

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “Belle you can’t. I have nothing to give you.”

“You were so kind to me. You understood me. You didn’t scoff at my love of books or my interest in swordplay. When we fenced last night it was as if it was all those years ago and you were teaching me the basics in secret in your short time in my land and I mourned when you never returned.”

He looked away from her, pulling away from her touch.

“Snow White will pardon you.” Belle insisted. “Come to the ball. Find her. It’s the only way you’ll have an audience with her without revealing your identity. Hordor would never look you in the eye if you bring your walking stick. He’s far too proud. I’ll not see you Run, Rumpelstiltskin. I’ll not lose you again.”

“If we fail…” Rumpelstiltskin started.

“We won’t.”

“If we do, Belle. We’re dead. And my son is put on the front lines of the Ogres War as the child of a traitor.”

Belle blinked, the gravity of the situation weighing down on her. Finally, she straightened, looking like the lady she was.

“Do the brave thing. And bravery will follow.”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed. He couldn’t argue with her. Somehow, he knew that. She had a look in her eye that gave no room for argument. Finally, after a moment, Rumpelstiltskin nodded.

“Very well. Baelfire and I will prepare.”

Belle beamed, and in an instant, she was in his arms, clinging to him in a tight embrace. Rumpelstiltskin chuckled, unable to help closing his own arms around her, feeling her warm body against hers.

“And what are we to do about your engagement?” He asked.

“I’ll call it off.” Belle said instantly. “I’ll call it off and be free.”

“Yes free to come straight to a man whose t many years your senior.” Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. “I should have asked your father about courting when I had the chance.”

Belle gasped, pulling away to give him a hopeful look. “You--?”

“Belle, we have to go.” Emma said. “Any longer and they’ll wonder what held up an afternoon ride.”

“Emma’s a genius at sneaking out.” Baelfire explained with a grin. “Or sneaking in.”

“Good.” Rumpelstiltskin said. “We might need that come tomorrow.”

“We’re not running?”

“No. We have something to fight for.”

He brought Belle’s knuckles to his lips as she slipped away, back to Emma and the horses awaiting outside.

“What colors will you be wearing?” Emma asked Baelfire as he helped her onto her horse. “We’ll dress to match.”

“Gold.” Baelfire said with a smile. “Is it too early to ask for a dance, your highness?”

“You’ll have to get through my father first.” Emma said, a wide grin gracing her face.

With that, the princesses were off. And if a few servants noticed that they rode into the palace in a different direction they rode out on, no one said a word.


	5. The Ball

The music coming from the ballroom was not like any Rumpelstiltskin had heard before. Still, as he limped along beside his son, leaning heavily on his makeshift cane, he was relieved to see that they weren’t getting any odd looks. They carried themselves perfectly as they entered the ballroom, curtsying to Emma and her father.

“Welcome to our kingdom.” Prince Charming greeted happily.

“Thank you for having us, your highness.” Baelfire said happily. “My name is Lord...Charles. And this is my father, Lord Solo.”

Baelfire glanced to Emma, who had to stifle a laugh.

“Welcome to our kingdom, Lord Charles and Solo. Please enjoy yourselves at the ball.”

“Thank you.” Rumpelstiltskin said.

The music shifted to something slower in tempo. Baelfire cleared his throat. “Prince Charming...I was wondering if I might ask your daughter for a dance?”

Emma’s eyebrows raised, obviously impressed with the way Baelfire handled himself, and perhaps a bit surprise he’d asked in the first place. This time, it was Rumpelstiltskin’s turn to stifle a laugh as his son stood stiff as a rod as the Prince exchanged a glance with his daughter. Emma smiled.

“You may if she allows it.” Prince Charming finally said, Snow White practically giggling at his side. 

Baelfire’s hand turned to Emma. “M’lady? May I have this dance?”

“You may.” Emma said, bidding her father goodbye for the moment.

“Just trying to see if we can get any info on her mother.” Baelfire defended as his father jabbed him in the side. Emma laughed, letting him lead her onto the ballroom floor just the same, the two of them gliding across it as if they’d danced their whole lives.

Rumpelstiltskin scanned the room. It was crowded with happy guests and smiling faces. He found that Belle was nowhere to be seen, though Hordor was easy enough to spot. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst dresses and robes in his Frontlands military uniform. Rumpelstiltskin stepped to the side, taking a spot inconspicuously in the corner as he contemplated his next move.

This was a terrible idea. Having Hordor this close was suicide. His son seemed to be enjoying himself but for how long? It was only a matter of time before Hordor saw through them and had them backed into a corner, just like before. Just like when…

“You’re a million miles away.”

Belle’s voice snapped him out of his daze, and he gave her a half-hearted smile. “I apologize, your highness.”

“Are you alright?”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed. Belle was wearing a golden dress that draped just off her shoulders and outlined her curves perfectly before cascading around her in a beautiful ballgown. It matched his blue dress robes with gold trim perfectly, one of the only things that had survived through the years from his old life.

“I’m fine.” He said, taking his hand in hers to bring to his lips. To hell with it, if he was going to die tongiht, he was going to die happy. He refused to have any more regrets. “Could you spare a dance, your highness? I know I won’t be much of a partner with my leg…”

“You’ll be the perfect partner.” Belle said happily, taking his hand and practically dragging him to the dance floor.

She turned to him, putting his hand on his shoulder and guiding his hand to her waist easily. Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth went dry. Even through her dress, she was warm under his fingertips. Her own touch was soft and smooth and welcoming, practically beckoning his heart into her hands.

“Belle, don’t expect too much.”

“Shush.” She chided as she began moving to the slow melody. “You’re my knight. It doesn’t matter how you dance.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you…”

“Never.”

With a crooked smile and his cane hanging from the crook of his arms, he stepped with her, letting her lead until he got the rhythm and she gave it over to him. The music was not so different than the movements of a sword battle, and soon he found he was twirling her away and bringing her back just like the way they had dueled the night before. The music slowed, coming to a stop. But Rumpelstiltskin didn’t take his hands off her, even when it picked up into something more lively.

“Belle...I--”

The air shifted, and Rumpelstiltskin found his body was reacting faster than his mind could. In a mere blink of an eye he’d swung around, using his cane to defend the oncoming attacker, coming face-to-face with a very smug Hordor. His sword dug into the wood of the cane, unable to come out without great force, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I found you.”

All at once, the guards were moving. The ballroom was in a flurry of motion and Rumpelstiltskin was trembling, unaware that Baelfire was calling to him until Hordor turned his attention to his son. Rumpelstiltskin saw red. Yanking his walking stick away, the sword was forced out of Hordor’s grasp, free for Rumpelstiltskin to take in hand.

“Facing a man with his own sword.” Hordor said with a smirk as one of his men provided him with theirs. “That’s unlike you, Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Belle, if you are able to take Baelfire and get him to safety.” Rumpelstiltskin said, feeling the wood of the cane be taken from him. “I’ll not run this time.”

“Good.” Hordor said. “You were a pain in the arse to track down.”

For a moment, the two were still, waiting for the other to make the first move. Hordor broke first, coming at Rumpelstiltskin with a flurry of attacks. He parried them easily, focusing on his opponent and not the sea of people scrambling out of the way or the guards moving to quell the chaos. He wasn’t aware he’d been backed outside until the cool night air hit him. He winced as his leg began to protest, and Hordor caught his moment of weakness, lunging forward and just grazing his cheek.

“Come quietly, Rumpelstiltskin. If you do I won’t even put your son on the front lines.”

“You can’t have him!” Rumpelstiltskin exclaimed, slashing wildly at Hordor.

The sound of steel against steel clashed and echoed through the wind, and Hordor smirked He lunged again, changing his angle and ducking low only to find a second blade defending his target. Baelfire pulled up, using Hordor’s momentum against him to force him away and colliding into the balcony’s rails.

“You were trying to save me all those years ago.” Baelfire said, giving a smile to his father. “I’m sorry, Papa. You’re not a coward.”

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, opening his mouth to call to Baelfire as Hordor came in for another attack, but Baelfire turned, blocking him flawlessly.

“It’s not honorable to attack an opponent when their back is turned.” Baelfire said through a grin. “But you never knew honor.”

Their swords clashed again, Baelfire forcing Hordor back to the balcony’s edge. Hordor let out a cry, lunging for Baelfire. However, his eyes caught Rumpelstiltskin rightening himself, and his direction changed. In the moment’s hesitation. Baelfire caught Hordor’s sword with his, forcing it up and awkwardly out of his hands.

“No!” Hordor cried. However, something shifted, his balance lost, and hewas sent tumbling over the railing after his sword and into the darkness below.

Slowly, the air stilled as the father and son caught their breaths. “It’s over.” Baelfire finally said.

“Aye.” Rumpelstiltskin said with a nod. “It is.”

~

The pardoning ceremony was not as complicated as Rumpelstiltskin has assumed. It had been as simple as explaining the situation to Snow White and, with Belle vouching for him, he’d been deemed a Knight again.

“I think it’s time I retire…” Rumpelstiltskin said as he walked with Belle and Baelfire to the banquet hall where a feast was to be held in their honor. “I prefer a spinning wheel to a sword.”

“Emma said the caste was in need of some new guards.” Baelfire said. “I...would it be alright if I stayed here, Papa?”

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, clapping his son on the shoulder. “Make your own happiness, Bae. We’re free.”

As they neared the door and Emma met up with Baelfire to make their entrance, Belle pulled Rumpelstiltskin to the side. “Come, we’ll run one more time.”

“Run? But the banquet--”

“It will be here when we get back.”

Rumpelstiltskin could only follow Belle with nothing more than a perplexed look as she led him up stairs and through hallways until they finally came to the entrance to her room. Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth went dry as she opened the door and led him inside, his mind growing foggy with possibilities and expectations that simply could not be real.

“Belle--?”

“You intend to court me, right Rumple?”

“Yes sweetheart of course.”

“Then let me have something I’ve wanted since the days you came to my father’s court.”

For a moment, he opened his mouth to ask what she could possibly be talking about, but she only took advantage, stepping closer and pulling him into a searing kiss. He let out a moan as her tongue found his lips, her own soft and warm against her, yelding to him, mouths dancing in something as easy as breathing.

“Belle, dearie…” Rumpelstiltskin whined as her hands came up to wrap around his neck. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Kiss me again.”

Rumpelstiltskin wasted no time when he felt her clinging to him. His lips moved up and down her neck, bless her for wearing her hair up. His teeth nipped and his tongue soothed. He relished in the whimpers and squeaks that came from her lips, those lips he was once again on. This time his reply was eager, and he found he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Somehow wanted him.

If this was a dream he refused to wake.

Belle’s breath only became more ragged as his hands wandered over her. Legs, waist, breasts, back, hair, it didn’t seem to matter to him as long as she was against him, as long as they were in contact, though she was grateful for His hands holding her up. He was undressing her then, unlacing her bodice and pulling at her skirt, apparently his mind too clouded by passion to worry about a bed. The brunette followed suit, tugging away his tunic, getting him out of the damn cloth. It was her turn for her hands to wander over him. Back, arms, chest, hair, neck. All as she wanted to do so long ago. Fierce yet gentle. Just like when they fenced.

Her hand froze as she felt the small gash on his cheek under her fingertips, but Rumple only kissed her. He took her hand from the spot and moved it to his chest where she could feel his heart pounding just as hard as hers, almost in perfect synchronization. She let her eyes flutter closed once again, lulling herself in that heartbeat as her lips ran over his shoulder.

The pants he was wearing had grown significantly tighter, and he had grown more impatient. The two broke apart long enough to shed their clothes, and when Rumpelstiltskin turned back to her, she’d layed across the pillows.

Rumplelstiltskin had never been so forward before, but she didn’t seem to mind as he crawled up the bed to hover over her. She leaned up, her hands running along his chest and waist, lips moving electric traces over anything they could find. Finally, she stopped at his neck, tenderly kissing the length of the wound on his cheek before moving to his lips..  
“I love you.” She whispered, trying to find her breath as he settled between her, hands ravishing her bare breasts and pinching her sensitive nipples to peak.

Oh he loved the way she squirmed under his touch, how her warmth felt against his length. How her nipple felt in his mouth. “And I love you too.” He returned against her silky skin before sliding inside of her.

She moaned and bucked as her body gladly welcomed him, warm walls stretching around him in the perfect sensation of tightness without being painful. He would never tire of that sight. How her lips parted and her eyes shut and she made the most delicious sound. Even against the hard wooden floor she was beautiful and perfect.

Rumple paused as their arms wrapped around each other and they held each other tightly as he moved, the sensations he was giving her making her body hot, melting against him. Somehow, it wasn’t just physical pleasure. It was emotional. As if their entire atime apart was being focused on this once instance, every feeling and emotion coming forth, spilling over then like a tidal wave.

Belle opened her mouth to say something as she felt his hot breath against her neck, but then he shifted her position slightly, and the new spot he hit only made her shudder and moan out his name. He growled hers in turn, picking up the pace as she struggled to keep up. Harder. Faster. Right there yes right there.

With a simultaneous sound of ecstasy the two of them shuddered in each other’s arms and rode their climax. It wasn’t until he’d come down that Rumpelstiltskin realized what had happened. He’d lost control, not even thinking about her as she came onto him. She shifted, moving to pull away and apologize and beg forgiveness. But she was only clinging to him, holding him in place.

“You’ll never be rid of me.” She whispered.

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. “I’ll never make you search.

And if Belle and Rumpelstiltskin skipped the banquet entirely, preferring the sanctuary of each other’s arms, no one spoke of it.


	6. Epilogue

The sharp sounds of metal against metal clanged and chirped and echoed throughout the small room. Rumpelstiltskin and Belle were smirking at each other, one hand firmly tucked behind their backs. It was almost second nature for them to lunge and dodge each other’s blows, their dance as easy as breathing.

“There are much better ways to ruddy a perfectly good dress, love.” Rumpelstiltskin teased as he spun around her thrust, coming for a close parry to hold the swords to each other. “Don’t you think?”

“And what ways would that be, Rumpelstiltskin?” Belle asked with a grin. He gave her sword a light tap before backing away. “Careful I barely felt that one. I’d think you were going easy on me.”

“Never.” He promised. “But believe me, you’ll feel my sword when the time comes.”

Belle erupted in a fit of giggles, but soon she’d recovered, swinging and spinning until Rumpelstiltskin got distracted by her short skirt riding up to reveal her legs as she moved and he misstepped, putting too much weight on his ankle and stumbling back, falling onto his back. In an instant. Belle was atop him, a triumphant smirk on her lips.

“Yes, you on your back. I like this very much.”

Rumpelstiltskin let out a playful growl, catching Belle by the waist and pulling her to him, their lips crashing together in a searing kiss. The echoes of their match was long gone, replaced with the tell-tale signs of a baby crying.

Belle sighed, sitting up “Seems she’s awake.”

“We might have woken her.” Rumpelstiltskin said, an apology in his voice. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Of course you will.” Belle kissed his cheeks as they stood, walking to the nursery. “You can always calm her down. She loves your stories.”

“It’s just the sound of my voice…”

They walked into the nursery together, Rumpelstiltskin taking his daughter into his arms to quiet her cries and wipe away her tears, Belle at his side. He had his son. He had his wife. He had his daughter. He had his spinning wheel. That was all he’d ever need. Every now and then, he still expected to wake up. Still be in some small cottage with Baelfire as a spinner. And every morning, when he woke up with Belle in his arms, his daughter in the other room, and the knowledge that Bae was making a life for himself and finding his own happiness, he was happy. And if he was still hoping and praying that this was happily ever after, he never said a word.


End file.
